


Mistletoe Wishes

by Geektastic_Hedgehog



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas fic, Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe, Yes the title sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 06:59:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geektastic_Hedgehog/pseuds/Geektastic_Hedgehog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I KNOW that the title sucks. Dean and Cas get caught under the mistletoe etc. Fluff blah blah blah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistletoe Wishes

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is unBeta'd and pretty much completely unedited, since I've been pretty swamped. *Glares at Beta, who had it since November* Meh, c'est le vie. I'll edit it overnight and fix anything I find Christmas morning, but for now, here it is.

  
            The first time it happened, Dean wanted to die. Well, not literally, he’d been there, done that, and all he’d gotten was this crappy hand print. But getting caught under the mistletoe with a flushed and confused angel was not his version of a good time. Even if Castiel’s hair was tousled from a drunken Garth ruffling it. Even if Castiel’s cheeks were colored with just the right shade  of red. Even if his shirt was unbuttoned more than usual. Even if Dean had an intense attraction to the fallen-angel-turned-best-bro. Not that he would admit it.  
            He blamed Sam. Whenever something was especially uncomfortable, it was always Sam’s fault. Dean had been minding his own business, dealing with the fallout of Garth’s pre-holiday binge. Which was totally Sam’s fault. Okay, so Dean had offered him the alcohol. But it was Christmas! Okay, it was December...first...but Dean had already downed some of the spiked eggnog, and he could not be held responsible for his actions. Especially since Garth adopted one hell of a puppy-dog face, which Dean was apparently susceptible to after the rum started working on him.   
            Anyways, he’d dragged Garth off to his room and deposited him none-too-gently on the bed. When he got back, Cas was waiting by the door. Sam was wearing a superior smirk as he sat in the corner and watched-hence, the whole it’s-Sam’s-fault. Castiel, as always, looked befuddled.  
            “Dude, what’s wrong?” Dean asked, mildly concerned.   
            “Look up,” Sam taunted.   
            So he did. Right at the sprig of mistletoe hanging like an impish cherub from the ceiling.   
            “You’re kidding me.”  
            “I do not understand,” Castiel intoned, and Dean did not want to think about the attractive huskiness of Cas’s voice.   
            “Human tradition, Cas. You get caught under the mistletoe with someone and you have to kiss them,” Sam answered cheerily. No shame.   
            “That seems like an absurd tradition,” Castiel responded, although at this point his face adopted a pinker hue. Shrugging, Dean made to turn away, and return to resolutely squashing his growing affections for the man. “Perhaps I should hone my ‘people skills,’” Cas said as he grabbed Dean’s shoulder. Inwardly smiling, Dean turned around and kissed Castiel full on the lips.  
            It was underwhelming. Castiel stiffened, and before he had a chance to relax, Dean separated from him. An awkward silence followed. It was finally broken by Sam clapping slowly, and the rest of the night passed in a blur of friendly quibbling between the brothers. Castiel had faded away soon after the kiss finished.

* * *

  
The Second Time, Dean didn’t bother with the pretense of hesitance. They’d just ganked a vampire hanging out at a shopping mall, pulling the fire alarm to get rid of any looky loos. Of course, the vampire had gotten Santa before they had staked the bastard, and no one wanted to stick around for the fall-out.   
            Nonetheless, when Dean spotted a bunch of the infamous shrub hanging over the exit. He had enough time to let Cas go through first, and avoid any more amorous encounters, but carefully thought it over until it was too late.   
            “Hey, Cas,” Dean leered triumphantly and pointed above their heads. Castiel blinked owlishly for a moment, before taking a step forward and inclining his head invitingly. Dean moved closer and availed himself of the opportunity. Castiel’s stubble rubbed slightly against Dean’s face as they pressed closer together. Dean nipped lightly on Cas’s lower lip and was rewarded by a small sound of surprise. He smiled and wrapped his arm around Castiel’s waist-  
            “Dean!” Dean sprung away from Castiel and turned to his brother, his face redder than Dead Santa’s. Sam jerked his head towards the car and stalked off. Without looking at Cas, Dean jogged after him.

* * *

  
By the Third Time, Dean was entirely sure there was a plot. He’d survived most of his life without getting caught under the mistletoe, and now was his third encounter in as many weeks. This time, Dean and Cas were alone, scouting out the linen closet in a skeevy motel. Apparently, the janitor had seen a giant slug crawling on the wall. Dean didn’t believe it for a minute, but they happened to be staying at the skeevy motel so why not check it out.   
            Dean didn’t know why there was mistletoe hanging in the linen closet.  
            Dean didn’t have time to figure it out, because a moment after he spotted it, Castiel was pushing him against the wall, one hand tangled in Dean’s hair, the other roaming Dean’s body. The kiss itself seemed almost subsidiary in comparison to all the grinding going on. Not that he didn’t enjoy it. Castiel tasted inexplicably of strawberries with a slight hint of coconut. Dean wondered hazily if Castiel learned this from the pizza man, when his phone rang.   
            Castiel stepped away from Dean and gazed patiently as Dean talked to Sam.  
            “Yeah, doesn’t look like there’s anything here,” Dean said out of breath. A pause. “No, I was...moving some boxes,” Castiel quirked an eyebrow in irritation, Dean glanced at him apologetically then returned his attention to the phone. “Well, fuck. That explains everything. Did you gank it? Okay, we’re headed back now.” Dean looked around only to find Castiel had already left.

* * *

  
The Winchesters got Christmas Eve, courtesy of an alarmingly insistent Garth. They convinced Castiel to stay the night with them at one of the safehouses and put Sam on Garth Duty. Sam was just as bad at withstanding Garth’s complaints as Dean, and it actually _was_ Christmas this time, so by nine o'clock, Garth was passed out on an armchair, murmuring about naughty elves. Sam made himself scarce after Garth was seen to. Dean had barely noticed any of these details, as he was explaining to Castiel why _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ could be viewed at Halloween, Christmas, or any other time of the year because it was Tim-fucking-Burton.   
            Dean finally concluded his explanation, and a heavy silence followed. Castiel finally broached the quiet.  
            “Why do you not enjoy being caught under the mistletoe with me?” Castile queried softly, glancing at Garth on the armchair.   
            “I don’t...not enjoy it I just...It is what it is, Cas.”  
            “You are being obtuse.”  
            “I-what?” Dean shook his head and continued, “Listen, Cas, I’m not sure it’s appropriate-”  
            “ _Appropriate?_ ” Castiel’s tone iced over dangerously, “It wasn’t _appropriate_ for me to help you stop the apocalypse. It wasn’t _appropriate_ for me to slaughter my brothers to save you two. Explain to me just how this isn’t _appropriate._ ”  
            Dean peered at Castiel’s face, soft lines sharpened by anger. He couldn’t answer Cas because he didn’t know how to. He’d asked him the same question and repeatedly failed at finding an answer.   
            “I...why do you want to?” Dean asked, unsure. The expression on Castiel’s face softened somewhat. He huffed in weary amusement.  
            “I have been told that actions speak louder than words,” Castiel replied, leaning in and kissing Dean, no mistletoe in sight.

* * *

  
Outside the safe house, no more than fifty feet away, stood a man clothed in an ornate red costume. He was short in stature, with slicked-back sandy blonde hair. He gazed into the apartment thoughtfully for a moment before smirking and nodding triumphantly.   
            “Not bad little brother,” he popped a candy cane into his mouth and turned away from the house. “Ho, ho, ho,” and with a snap, he was gone to terrorize other mall Santas in the name of brotherhood.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, that was Gabriel. Yes, he orchestrated the whole thing. Including the vampire-Santa shenanigan. It’s okay, only one Santa was harmed in the making of this fic. Very sorry about the make-out scenes if they sucked, I TRIED. Anyways, comments/advice are always welcome.


End file.
